


Trick or Treat

by i_know_its_0ver



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-17
Updated: 2011-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_know_its_0ver/pseuds/i_know_its_0ver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team has a Halloween party, and Reid gets a treat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trick or Treat

Spencer Reid loved Halloween. In fact, he’d be tempted to call it his favorite holiday, if he had some empirical criteria by which to make such a judgment.

It might seem strange that he would embrace a holiday devoted to death and darkness and the most primal of human fears, given what he did for a living. He saw the very worst of humanity every day, in photos, in crime scenes, in the faces of victims and killers. He looked into the heart of evil and tried his best to understand it, to make sense of it in a logical way.

But Halloween was different. Ghouls and ghosts and goblins didn’t come with the same complications as human unsubs. They were nothing more than symbols and myths, pure evil and darkness, without the complications of humanity. To be able to revel in the darkness and make light of evil without analyzing it was a welcome relief, for those few days each year.

Thankfully Garcia shared his enthusiasm, though he suspected her primary interest was in the lavish costumes and the excuse for parties, rather than the symbolic meaning. Still. It was nice to have someone else around to share his enthusiasm and help lighten the mood. And Reid highly doubted the rest of the team would have ever agreed to a Halloween party without her endless persuading.

Hotch had gracefully bowed out, with the excuse that he had to take Jack trick-or-treating. JJ had acquiesced on the condition that she and Will could find a babysitter, since Henry was still too young for the festivities (a fact which didn’t stop her from dressing him up in several different costumes and showing the team dozens of pictures on her phone, however). Neither Emily nor Rossi had been able to withstand Garcia’s puppy-dog-style pout. It was further evidence of Reid theory that no one with a functioning conscience could resist its inexplicable powers.

Morgan, uncharacteristically, had agreed as soon as Reid asked, even though he had grumbled about the holiday every year since Reid had known him. Reid chose not to dissect his motivations, partly out of respect for the ‘no profiling coworkers’ rule, but mostly because he was too happy with the results to care about the reasons.

So Reid could barely contain his excitement as they all left FBI Headquarters on the afternoon of the 31st, actually leaving at a decent hour for the first time in weeks (due largely to the fact that Reid had been staying late to do extra paperwork all week, but it was definitely worth it).

Though the sun had barely set, the streets of DC were already packed with costumed revelers, ranging from the macabre and ghoulish to pop culture and political figures, many of which Reid had trouble identifying. Sometimes it was hard to tell who was in costume and who was simply coming home from work on the Hill. None of them seemed to give Reid’s costume a second glance as he rode a packed red line car towards downtown.

The club in Dupont Circle was crammed with people in all manner of costumes (many of them almost too revealing to be considered legally decent, Reid suspected), but somehow he still managed to spot the group right away. It was probably due largely to Garcia’s ridiculously bright outfit. She was dressed in a poufy blue cocktail dress, with rainbow striped sleeves and matching stockings, her currently-blond hair pulled into a high ponytail with brightly colored ribbons. A vague image of a 1980s cartoon flashed through Reid’s mind, but for once his memory couldn’t connect it to a name and string of facts.

“Oh, there he is!” Garcia called out in an overly loud, probably already more than a little drunk, shout. She waved him over with a glowing toy wand, jumping up and down to be sure she had caught his eye-- as if he could possibly miss her. Especially not with Kevin beside her dressed in impressively accurate full Imperial Storm Trooper gear.

The group was huddled around a high-topped table, already covered in empty and half-full glasses. Garcia and Kevin had disappeared back into the writhing crowd by the time Reid made his way over, probably back out onto the dance floor. He didn’t see any sign of Morgan, and guessed he was probably out there as well, “doing his thang,” as he liked to call it. JJ smiled and offered Reid an empty seat beside her.

JJ and Will were dressed in matching outfits: denim jeans, plaid shirts, and straw cowboy hats. JJ’s blond hair was braided into pigtails, and she looked like the archetypal image of wholesome Americana. Though her slightly intoxicated wobble somewhat ruined the effect.

Rossi was seated on Reid’s other side, wearing his usual dark suit and white shirt, black tie loosened around his neck. Reid frowned in confusion.

“Rossi, you didn’t wear a costume?” he asked, a little disappointed. Rossi didn’t really seem the type for holiday festivities, but he was sure that Emily or Garcia would have pressured him into it. One needed exceptionally strong willpower to resist their joint determination, the memories of which still made him fidget uncomfortably.

Rossi just grinned, pulling a pair of dark sunglasses out of his breast pocket and putting them on. He gave Reid a stern look, then spread his hands in a ‘ta-da’ motion, like it should be obvious.

“I’m a CIA agent,” he explained, removing the glasses with a self-satisfied smirk. Emily, sitting on his other side, just rolled her eyes. Reid guessed she’d already heard this punchline several times tonight, and was trying not to give away her fond amusement.

He couldn’t help but grin at them both. It was moments like this when the team really felt like the family he’d always longed for.

Emily had apparently gotten into the spirit of the evening (or Garcia had done it for her). She wore a long white dress, belted at the waist, with her dark hair parted into Princess Leia’s distinctive pigtail buns. Reid thought it was the perfect choice for her; feminine but tough, like Emily herself.

“You look nice,” Reid practically shouted above the noise of the thumping music. “Very…authoritative.” Emily unsuccessfully attempted to hide a graceless snort behind her glass, but she looked pleased with the compliment.

“And Reid, you look…exactly the same,” she replied with a frown, looking him over from top to bottom. The others followed suit, brows furrowed.

“What? No I don’t. I’m the Doctor, see?” Reid replied, holding up the ends of his overly long, multicolored scarf. Which really should have been an obvious giveaway; it was _iconic_ , after all.

“Doctor who?” JJ asked, and Reid nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, exactly!” he exclaimed, a pleased grin on his face. He was surprised that JJ would be the one to understand; he suddenly thought that maybe he had drastically underestimated her knowledge of classic scifi. It was a topic he would have to remember to bring up next time they were stuck on the jet together.

“Okay, _Doctor_ Pretty Boy,” Morgan cut in, suddenly materializing from nowhere right behind Reid. “Let’s go grab you a drink.” He tossed Emily and smirk and put one hand on Reid’s elbow, steering him away before he could start bombarding JJ with questions about her favorite Doctor, and her thoughts on the plausibility of the science behind TARDIS technology. That warm hand was enough to derail Reid’s eager train of thought, and he let himself be led away from the group without a backward glance.

Reid glanced over at Morgan through the flashing lights. Morgan was wearing his usual jeans, with a uniform-style Chicago Bears jersey on top. If it weren’t for the matching smudges of black greasepaint under his eyes he would look completely normal. Apparently Garcia’s powers of persuasion had only been able to extend so far. Perhaps Morgan had built up some kind of immunities by now.

The bar was crowded, but Morgan managed to catch the bartender’s eye and signal for two beers with one of those easy, masculine nods that Reid could never quite pull off.

“I like your scarf,” Morgan said, turning back to Reid with one elbow resting casually against the bar. His other hand picked up one end of the long scarf and rubbed it between his fingers in a very distracting way. Reid tried his hardest not to blush as he mumbled a thank you.

“So who _are_ you supposed to be?” Morgan asked, leaning in close with a look of amused curiosity.

The question gave Reid something to focus on other than the motion of Morgan’s long fingers rubbing gentle circles in the yarn.“Um, I’m the Fourth Doctor, from _Doctor Who_ , a classic sci fi show that first aired in 1963. He’s an alien life form known as a Time Lord, who travels through time and space in a spaceship disguised as a blue police box, protecting the human race from its enemies.”

Morgan nodded, his hands absently smoothing the scarf back into place. He didn’t scoff, like he often did when Reid started to ramble about Star Trek or anything Morgan perceived to be “nerdy.” Instead, he looked thoughtful.

“So, he’s kind of like a scifi superhero?” Morgan asked, lips tilting up in that stunningly gentle smile that always caught Reid off guard. “It suits you.”

It took Reid a moment to process this comment, because his heart chose that moment to feel like it was going into arrhythmia. Fortunately his mouth leapt into action on its own, as usual.

“Sort of. Although the concept of a superhero implies--” he began, glad to have a comfortable topic.

But he was cut off as the bartender set two glasses in front of them. Reid moved to pull out his wallet, but Morgan brushed him off with a casual wave, handing over a bill and leading the way back towards their table.

Reid shrugged off the warm tingle in his chest, thinking that maybe something really was wrong with his heart and he should probably get it checked out, because even though there was no history of heart ailments in his family, that wasn’t always a safe indicator. But for the moment he simply followed behind Morgan, trying not to spill his drink as he deftly avoided collision with mummies and vampires and at least half a dozen women in cat ears.

Garcia was back at the table when they returned, sipping a drink as brightly colored as her outfit.

“Oh, my chocolate god, I’ve been looking all over for you!” she squealed, throwing her arms as far around both Morgan and Reid as she could manage. Emily reached out and took Reid’s beer from him with an sympathetic smirk as Garcia jostled them about.

Reid managed to extricate himself from her grasp without seeming overly eager to get away. She was too focused on Morgan to really notice, anyway.

“Garcia, what are you supposed to be?” he asked, that unidentifiable image still niggling the back of his mind. It always bothered him to not _know_ things.

Garcia grinned and released Morgan’s arm so she could take a step back. She curtseyed and waved her glowing plastic wand in Reid’s face, taping him on the forehead rather harder than she probably intended.

“I’m Rainbow Brite, of course! Bringing color and happiness to the gloomy world of the FBI’s most brilliant!” She tapped Reid on the cheek with her wand (he was pretty sure she had been aiming for his nose) and looked at him expectantly.

“Uh, thanks?” Reid replied, still not making the connection, but considering it wiser not to ask for any more details, if it would mean more pokes with the plastic wand.

“You certainly bring color to my world, baby girl,” Morgan teased in his usual flirty tone, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “How about we go bring some color to that dance floor?”

“Oh, sugar, you know how to make a woman’s heart race. Come on, minions, everyone to the dance floor!” Garcia ordered, pointing her wand at them imperiously. JJ, Will, and Emily gladly rose from their seats, following behind Garcia and Kevin in a makeshift conga line as they headed back into the throng.

“Reid?” Morgan asked, hanging back as the others passed. Reid merely waved him off to go have fun. It was the same every time they all came out together, but Morgan was always polite enough to ask anyway. His consideration made Reid happy, for reasons he couldn’t name.

Morgan lingered for a moment, looking like he was going to say something else, but then he merely shrugged and disappeared into the crowd, blending right in with all the other lithe, flowing bodies. Reid grabbed a seat beside Rossi and looked out over the dancers as he tentatively sipped his beer. Rossi just smiled indulgently and let the comfortable silence hang as they watched the crowd sway. He followed the dancers with a wistful gaze; nostalgia, Reid supposed, and left it at that.

The usual thumping dance beat was overlaid with Halloween sound effects, combining with the orange-shaded strobe lights to lend the club a fun, festive vibe. Reid let his gaze roam idly, somehow managing to locate Morgan and Garcia amidst the throng, as if his eyes were magnetically drawn to them. He admired their easy grace, the smooth way their bodies moved to the thumping beat. Several times Garcia caught his eye and tried to wave him over, but Reid just smiled back and stayed where he was. Watching Morgan dance was far more enjoyable than making a fool of himself, something he tried to avoid doing by choice. Morgan already thought he was a hopeless klutz, and it was best not to prove him right.

Morgan drifted across the floor, from one woman to another, sometimes reconnecting with their small group, other times effortlessly working his way in amidst strangers who all seemed more than willing to partner with him for a song or two. But really, who could possibly say no to Derek Morgan at his most charming, Reid thought.

It wasn’t until Garcia flopped back into the chair next to him that Reid realized that his eyes hadn’t left Morgan for the past half hour, at least. He turned to find Rossi and Garcia exchanging an enigmatic look, and quickly covered his embarrassment with a surreptitious sip of his beer. But neither of them said anything to him, instead chatting (or, rather, shouting over the noise) with each other.

When Reid felt comfortable enough to sneak another glance back at the dance floor, he found Morgan looking straight back at him, a relaxed grin on his face as a girl in a skimpy witch costume glued to his front. Reid felt his cheeks flush with a sense of guilt be couldn’t explain, and quickly turned back to the table, pretending to be absorbed in Garcia’s chatter.

An hour, a thousand more covert glances, and one more beer later, the others had all regrouped around the table, looking happy but exhausted. General consensus declared it time to disband.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride home,” Morgan offered, draping one arm casually over Reid’s shoulders like it naturally belonged there. “Don’t want you taking the Metro with all those weirdoes out there tonight.”

Reid scoffed at the idea that being surrounded by ‘weirdoes’ was anything out of the ordinary for them, but let himself be led along without argument. It would be nice not to have to wait for a crowded train, and besides, he sudden felt much less steady on his feet. Funny, just a moment before he had felt completely sober.

They waved goodbye to the others as they all departed in different directions, off towards their cars, or, in Garcia and Kevin’s case, off to another party.

Morgan and Reid drove together in comfortable silence, _The Monster Mash_ playing softly from the radio. Reid caught Morgan grinning at the goofy childhood song, and even let all of the references to classical horror tales pass without comment, content to enjoy the quiet atmosphere after the thundering noise of the club.

“Do you want to come up?” Reid asked as they pulled up in front of his apartment building and Morgan let the car idle. He wasn’t sure why he asked. It was late, they were both tired, and tomorrow was a work day. But for some reason he didn’t want the night to end just yet. It was the first chance they’d had to relax and let loose in months, maybe longer, and he was reluctant to relinquish the happy buzz thrumming through his veins.

Perhaps that buzz was manifesting in an odd expression, because Morgan looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment, his gaze both penetrating and distant at the same time. Reid thought maybe Morgan was trying to think of a way to gracefully refuse, and he was about to retract the invitation and bow out with as much dignity as possible, when finally Morgan smiled.

“Yeah, alright,” he replied, turning off the ignition. Reid let out of a tiny sigh of relief. It wasn’t a big deal either way, he would see Derek again in the morning anyway, but it still made him happy.

He let Morgan lead the way, wrapping his long scarf several more times around his neck as they entered the cool late night air. These cold east coast nights still felt like a novelty to him, even after all these years. The neighborhood was quiet, composed mostly of families whose festivities had tapered off hours ago. Only the soft glow of jack o’ lanterns in windows still kept the hallowed eve vigil.

Reid almost regretted his invitation as he unlocked the door and led Morgan into his small apartment. They had been swamped with one case after another lately, which didn’t leave much time for things like housecleaning. He wished he had at least bothered to put some of his books away, or pile the dirty dishes in the sink. But Morgan didn’t seem to notice, taking a seat on the relatively clear end of the sofa.

Reid fidgeted, wondering if he should offer Morgan a drink. He didn’t have any alcohol on hand. Would he want coffee at this time of night? Maybe some herbal tea?

“You don’t have any decorations,” Morgan observed, interrupting Reid’s anxious thoughts.

“Oh, uh, no,” Reid replied ineloquently, not sure where Morgan’s train of thought was headed.

“How come? I thought you loved Halloween? You’ve got stuff all over your desk at work,” Morgan said. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, watching Reid with a speculative look. Reid recognized that look, it was one they all had; Morgan was in “profiler mode.”

Reid fidgeted with his scarf, unwrapping it to lay loosely around his shoulders. He wasn’t really in the mood to be analyzed, not when he already felt so off-kilter tonight. But it seemed a harmless enough question.

“There’s not much point in decorating when I’m the only one to see it,” he answered with a shrug. And it was the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole story. As a child he had enjoyed decorating for holidays with his mother, when she had been well enough. Now, in his empty apartment, it just reminded him how far away she was, how long ago those days were. Celebration was something to do with family, and now that family was the BAU.

Morgan watched him closely, but didn’t push any further. Maybe he understood, or maybe he just didn’t want to make Reid uncomfortable.

“Um, would you like a drink?” Reid offered, pointing awkwardly toward the small kitchen. “I could make tea.”

“Sure, tea would be great,” Morgan replied.

Reid sighed with relief and retreated to the kitchen, hoping a few moments alone would give him the opportunity to collect with scattered thoughts.

He nearly shouted in surprise when he turned away from the cabinet to find Morgan behind him, casually leaning against the small kitchen table.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, straightening and taking a step closer, either ignoring or not noticing Reid’s surprise.“You’re a stickler for traditions and everything, right? But there’s one we’ve overlooked.”

“Oh?” Reid replied, hands fumbling with a coffee mug. He placed it safely on the counter before his unsteady hands could drop it. He was having a hard time processing Morgan’s words with him so close; which was strange, they stood close to each other all the time. But something about the mood was different from usual, unlike when Morgan threw that casual arm over his shoulder or rifled his hair playfully. Right then Morgan looked expectant, focused.

“So, trick or treat?” Morgan asked, his voice that silky smooth baritone he usually reserved for flirting with Garcia. It made Reid’s mouth go dry, and he licked his lips nervously, frozen in place as Morgan took another step closer.

“Y-you know, some people speculate that the origin of that phrase arose from an attempt to curb traditions of Halloween vandalism by offering treats as a sort of peace offering, an alternative to ‘tricks,’” Reid responded mechanically, his brain going into automatic overdrive. “Though there isn’t much evidence that it was ever consciously used in that context. Today the phrase is used mostly out of tradition, rather than offering a choice or a thinly veiled threat.”

Reid paused for breath, his mind still rattling off facts, but they died on his tongue when he noticed the way Morgan was watching him. That slow, easy smile was one of fond amusement, a familiar smile, but there was something else, a heat in his eyes that was entirely new.

“Believe it or not, I know a bit about traditions too, Pretty Boy. So which will it be: Trick. Or. Treat?”

He was so close now Reid could smell his familiar cologne, one he had never been able to identify, had never smelled on anyone else. He had to blink to force himself to focus on Morgan’s words, though his brain could barely get past his tone. It made a shiver or excitement, or nerves, or probably both, shoot down his spine all the way to his mismatched socks.

Morgan was watching him closely, much too closely, and Reid could feel himself blushing. He wanted to hide, behind his hair, behind his fidgeting hands, behind his words, but he couldn’t make himself look away.

“Um—treat?” he replied, his voice as uncertain squeak.

Morgan’s smirk broke into a full, joyful grin. “I was hoping you’d choose that,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. But Reid heard it perfectly, the rest of the world having fallen silent, except for the noisy thumping of his pulse.

Spencer Reid was an expert in reading body language, had several PhDs to prove it. He should have recognized the signs as Morgan moved in even closer, one hand resting on Spencer’s forearm, eyes flickering between his eyes and mouth. He should have been able to read them like a billboard flashing bright neon letters. Would have, if his brain hadn’t suddenly shut down, completely deserting him to his fate.

Instead, the first brush of lips caught Reid completely by surprise, forcing an involuntary yelp from his lungs as his body reacted to the unaccustomed sensation. Morgan pulled back minutely to better gauge Reid’s reaction, but he didn’t seem fazed. In fact, Morgan was still smiling, and pulled even closer, if that was even possible.

“This okay?” Morgan asked, his warm breath brushing against Reid’s lips. All Reid could do was nod, brain still too hopelessly left behind to contribute any coherent words. But it _was_ okay. Far more than okay.

Morgan chuckled, that familiar laugh that meant he found Reid’s idiosyncrasies endearing, but it was also deeper, richer, a physical sensation at this close proximity. He grabbed both ends of Reid’s scarf, using them to gently tug him closer and captured Reid’s lips again. The second kiss was less tentative, but no less gentle.

Reid wasn’t sure exactly how long it lasted, could only catalog each sensation as it came and went: Derek’s large hands cupping his cheek, running through his hair, roaming over his back; his tongue, teasing and insistent and surprisingly nice against his own; the soft material of Derek’s shirt, bunched beneath his clutching fingers; the quiet sounds of quickly drawn breaths.

It was new and exciting and altogether overwhelming, too much stimuli to process at once. Reid had maybe let himself imagine a scenario like this, once or twice, in those weak moments when he couldn’t keep his mind otherwise distracted with facts and figures. But his imagination had not even come close.

Their mouths finally parted, but Morgan didn’t move away, pinning Reid in place against the counter with the weight of his hips. Reid’s mind was spinning, searching for something to say, something intelligent and impressive, but all he could come up with was, “Uh. Wow.”

“Yeah, wow,” Morgan echoed, happy laughter puffing against Reid’s cheek.

“I don’t think that’s exactly a _traditional_ Halloween ‘treat,’” Reid teased as his brain rejoined the party, eyebrows knitting together in his best ‘why yes, I do know everything,’ face. That face that always drove Morgan crazy.

Morgan just grinned, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind Reid’s ear.

“What, you saying I’m not sweeter than candy?” he teased in mock indignation, punctuating his point with a soft kiss against Reid’s jaw. Reid could feel himself blush, but couldn’t suppress a grin. Derek Morgan may have the cheesiest lines on the planet, but finally being on the receiving end, Reid could maybe see the appeal.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Morgan whispered, pulling Reid’s attention back from his thoughts. Reid looked up, meeting his eyes. “Happy Halloween.”

Reid thought the phrase had never been more apt.


End file.
